


Drive Me Crazy

by Proseandsongs



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Adult!Dipper, F/M, Innuendo, Kissing, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Sexual Situation, adult!Pacifica
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 12:09:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4705529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Proseandsongs/pseuds/Proseandsongs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dipper isn't sure what exactly is going on between him and Pacifica, but he definitely doesn't want it to stop. Unfortunately, his own awkward nature and his overenthusiastic sister seem to be bent on ruining it for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drive Me Crazy

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is my first posting here and my first more mature piece for this pairing. I hope you enjoy it, and feel free to message me with any recommendations for future postings!

Breathing was overrated, Dipper decided, as Pacifica pressed her mouth hard against his again, giving him barely a second to take a breath. Asthma be damned, he was going to enjoy every fevered second of this thing… _whatever_ it was.

She always remained aloof in public, never looking at him too long, her voice light enough to deny any interest. And he played along, too, although he pushed more. He wanted to make her laugh, to say that one sentence that would knock her off balance for just a second before the veneer returned with its full impact; glossy enough to conceal any affection she might have felt.

But when they were cramped in the back of her car, parked at the lookout a fair trek from the residential area, or in a back room at a club or a party, all pretenses dropped and she reached for him, devouring his mouth and setting him on fire. Being on fire was a new sensation, too, and one that became more intoxicating with each occurrence.

They were up to at least three clandestine make outs a week, by his count. Not that he’d admit to keeping track. That would earn him a scoff of “dweeb” and a night of his fingers itching to touch her across the cavern of silence she dropped between them. He had made that mistake once. With his kiss-addled brain, he had gasped out the words she refused to hear from him – “ _I love you”_  breathless as it was desperate – and she had pulled away immediately. The speed of it had left his head spinning, so he could only watch her walk away, the world on a slant. He learned a lesson that night: Just as easily as she could set him on fire, Pacifica could freeze him out, too.

Dipper preferred the fire.

His mind was drawn back to Pacifica as she latched onto his neck, just under his ear, raising a welt with a practiced suck. A curse spilled out of his mouth despite his resolve to be quiet this time because, for god’s sakes, he was so _loud_. She didn’t seem to mind; he felt her lips turn up in a smirk, and she did it again, this time lower, on the jugular. He groaned, softer this time, mindful that they were only tucked around a corner by the bathrooms. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if someone, completely trashed and looking for a piss, caught sight of them fumbling in the nook by the bathrooms. It might be enough to break whatever spell had come over them and prevent this from ever happening again.

And he didn’t want that. Not for a second.

He jumped when she spoke.

“Geeze, Dipper, you really know how to show a girl a good time,” Pacifica sneered, the acrid sarcasm tempered only by the panting that broke up her insult.

It occurred to him then that making out was an active participation sort of thing.

“Sorry,” he replied, suddenly very attentive, his hands moving up her back and taking the hem of her shirt with it. His lips found hers, and soon she was humming in satisfaction, the only verbal praise he would ever glean from her.

As his hands approached her hips again, gripping harder, teasing at the waistband of her jeans, he let his kisses descend her neck. Taking an earlier cue from her, he kissed his way down to her clavicle, where he stopped to sink his teeth in for a moment. That move was a keeper, if the sharp nails gripping the back of his t-shirt were any indication.

He started to move away from the spot, but a hand held him in place, capturing the hair at the back of his skull. In spite of himself, Dipper grinned and asked in a low voice, “You having a good time now?”

“Shut _uh_ p,” Pacifica responded, the second word coming out more like a moan when he ducked his head to kiss the dip of cleavage that her blouse allowed.

Pacifica arched into him as his hand moved past the border of her waistline, and her fingers dug into his back again.

“Dipper, let’s…let’s get out of here.”

He slowed for a second, not daring to believe he had heard right.

“You – you want to go?” he asked, his voice turning up in a squeak at the question mark. “But what about your friends? What about – what about Mabel? Won’t they see–?”

He cut himself off when her fingers hooked around the belt loops of his jeans and she tugged him to her. In his momentary bewilderment, Pacifica stretched up slowly on her toes until her breath tickled his ear. 

“Let them.” 

A shudder passed through him. Pacifica hovered there for another second, letting her words sink in, before she settled back on her heels. When he looked in her eyes, blue and electric – he hadn’t seen a blue that intense in years, not since the portal – it clicked.

She was taking him home with her. Pacifica _wanted_ to sleep with him. _Pacifica Northwest_ _wanted to sleep with Dipper Pines._

His legs just about gave out right then and there.

Under her stare, it only took him thirty, maybe thirty five seconds to make his mouth work again. With a, “Yeah, sure, le-let’s go,” he was trailing along behind Pacifica, pulled by the wrist.

As they reentered the hub of the bar, Dipper’s eyes roved over the faces, trying to pick out his sister in the crowd. A few passes over the clusters of people, and Dipper’s shoulders relaxed a touch. Maybe he’d slip out right under the radar.

Then he saw it: the bright pink dress with the fairy-light trim that Mabel had spent the past two days making.  It was amazing he hadn’t seen her instantly, but then again, Mabel had the height of a hobbit. Thankfully, Mabel was chatting up some girl at the counter with a streak of blue in her hair and didn’t see him right away. But then, by some force that Mabel dubbed Twin Telepathy and Dipper called Bad Luck, her head turned just enough to catch sight of him between a couple of patrons.

_Darn it._

With nowhere to hide, Dipper gave a little wave, his face heating up at what this must look like: Pacifica, her clothes wrinkled, dragging him out of the bar, hair tousled and the top two buttons of his shirt undone.

After the initial look of surprise, Mabel’s smile turned downright maniacal and she gave Dipper a dramatic salute, unable to shout anything to him over the Bob Dylan wannabee crooning over the sound system. It was a small consolation, although who knew what sort of texts would pop up on his phone once they reached the car.

Apparently, Dipper wasn’t even going to be granted that much mercy. His phone rang just when they cleared the coat check, making Dipper start. Regretful even before he laid eyes on the caller, Dipper set the phone against his ear.

“Kinda busy, Mabel.”

“Oh my gooossshhh,” she gushed, completely ignoring his abrupt greeting, “Are you two going to her place? If you are, I heard she’s got a Jacuzzi the size of a pool, you should definitely check that out.”

“That really isn’t your business,” Dipper said delicately, watching the back of Pacifica’s head to see if she had heard anything. But with her speedy march down the street to where her car was parked, Dipper thought it was a pretty safe bet she hadn’t heard a thing.

“So you _are_ going to her place! Ooh la la! Quel magnifique!” Mabel sang, trailing off into a string of giggles. Dipper sighed in exasperation at her butchered French, wishing the conversation had ended ten minutes ago.

Before he could come up with a proper reply, Mabel said, “Well I’ve got my eye on a cutie, too, so don’t wait up! Be safe, and have fun!”

“Bye,” Dipper said, but the line had already clicked.

“Who was that?” The sudden sound of Pacifica’s voice made him nearly drop his phone. It was then he realized he had slowed to a full stop while talking with Mabel, taking Pacifica with him.

“Mabel,” Dipper replied with an eye roll.

“Ah.” That was all the explanation she needed for Dipper’s behavior. With a raised brow, she asked, “What did she say?”

Dipper’s voice jumped as he replied, “Basically she told us to go have fun.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want to disappoint Mabel,” Pacifica chirped. As she rounded the hood of her car and slid into the driver’s seat, Dipper hesitated. Had she been drinking? He hadn’t seen her with anything, but her sudden shift in mood spoke to something less than lucid.

“Maybe I should drive,” he started to say, concern creeping back into his voice. Pacifica halted him with a raised hand.

“Save it. I’m perfectly sober, thanks,” Pacifica cut him down with a clean chop. Clearly she was feeling just fine.

“Oh. Really? So you mean you – you actually want to go home with me?”

Pacifica levelled him with a sharp look that made him feel like he had just hit a nerve.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dipper tread very lightly with his next sentence, conscious that it could make or break this tenuous event. “I mean, like…usually you don’t want people to see us together because you think it’ll make things complicated. But suddenly you’re dragging me out of a crowded bar in front of everybody to your car – it’s weird. I thought maybe you were acting like this ‘cause you’re buzzed.”

Pacifica’s face settled into something softer for a moment, but then her eyes flashed, her mouth set in determination. Dipper braced himself, knowing his evening (if not his life) was about to end.

“Let’s get one thing straight: I don’t do a damn thing I don’t want to.”

It took a few seconds for the significance of her words to filter through his brain, still a bit fuzzy from kissing her. When he realized what she was saying – _she wanted him, she was the prettiest girl he had ever been near and **she wanted him**_ – his cheeks colored deeply.

Pacifica raised her brows expectantly. “Is that clear enough for you?”

“Yeah, it is,” Dipper said finally, a silly smile spreading across his face.

“Good. Now get in.”

He slid into the passenger’s seat without another word, looking all too pleased. With a twist of her wrist and a click of the gearshift, she peeled out of the parking lot, eyes fixed straight ahead.

Quiet hovered around them for only a few seconds before Dipper dropped the bomb.

“It’s clear you like me.”

His head snapped forward when she hit the brakes, jostling him like a ragdoll. Her face flushed with annoyance and embarrassment in equal measure – although if he were to hedge a guess, the embarrassment tipped the scales a bit – Pacifica turned to him with a glare.

“Say that again and _you will walk, Pines._ ”

He settled back in his seat with a little wave of surrender, although his grin showed he wasn’t a smidgen sorry. If he wasn’t so damn cute (and she wasn’t so impatient), she probably _would_ have made him walk.


End file.
